Tannenbombing
by Fallenangel26
Summary: Four years post-Bebop, Faye is spending yet another Christmas Eve alone when she gets a suprising visitor, who is technically supposed to be dead. Yes! Spike is back and taking over her couch. What's a girl to do?


A/N: Just a quick little one-shot fic that I've had bouncing around in my head for a while. Sorry I couldn't get this out last night – it was meant to be posted on Christmas Eve. But y'all know I'm a procrastinator, so I got booted upstairs before I could finish. 

Anyways, here it is, one day late! I hope everyone had a fabulous Christmas, Kwanzaa, Ramadan, whatever you celebrate!

DISCLAIMER: Rudolph's nose is red, my fingers are blue, me no own, so you no sue!

~Note: This takes place four years after RFB

"Shit!" Alice Gamble popped her stinging finger into her mouth, glaring fiercely at the charred sheet of cookies sitting innocently in her oven. "I was never meant to be a cook anyway…" she muttered around her injured finger, glancing at the trashcan overflowing with Styrofoam take-out boxes.

With a dejected sigh, she plopped down into the single wooden chair in the kitchen, placed carefully next to the matching table. Feeling even more disheartened, she woefully surveyed her surroundings, searching for something to snap her out of her funk. Her small apartment was a nice one - clean, sophisticated, and lacking any trace of her former self. The décor was different for each room, but still had the same underlying theme, and none of it included a yellow couch. But Alice's mental eye ignored all the cream and burgundy, instead focusing on the soft bed covered in a fuzzy black blanket. Under the bed, pushed all the way to the back, was a small, squashed, dirty, old, shoebox, containing a few snapshots, some newspaper clippings, a few letters, a bottle of nail polish, a scrap of yellow vinyl, a pack of old cigarettes, and a beat-up deck of cards. 

That box was all that remained of Alice's previous life, as one such Faye Valentine. _Sometimes I really have to wonder why any of us ever left the Bebop… We had transportation, food, an in-house cook, a place to sleep, a little money, and friends to watch our backs. Did we just get complacent or bored of that life? Did we want more? Or did we want less? What was it that drove us all away? Were we just too pressured by the fact that we began to care about what happened to the people we were living with? Or was it that we were scared because the people we were living with began to care about what happened to us?_

With a sigh, Alice rose from the chair and walked into the living room of her apartment. A small Christmas tree stood in the corner, strung with tinsel and white lights, offset by silver ornaments and a glass angel on the top. There were a few presents piled under the green branches, and a couple Christmas cards stood on the mantle above the stone fireplace.

But despite the decorations, the room still felt dismal and empty to Alice, as she sunk down onto the couch and pulled a blanket around her shoulders. "Christmas really bites…" she muttered.

A few hours later, she was still curled up on the couch, cradling a mug of hot chocolate in one hand and the TV remote in the other. 'It's a Wonderful Life' was mumbling out of the TV, and Alice could hear the faint strains of carolers from outside.

"All alone, even on Christmas Eve…" she murmured. "How fitting."

Suddenly there was a hesitant knock on her front door.

"Go away!" she called. "I don't want anymore distant relations, well-wishers, concerned neighbors, or goddamn carolers!" After a pause, she added, "I'm tone deaf anyways!"

But the annoying someone on the other side of her door only renewed their efforts with emboldened vigor.

After several minutes of unsuccessfully trying to drown out the sound by turning up the TV or burying her head under a pillow, Alice sat up with a frustrated groan, shoved her feet into her fuzzy slippers, and shuffled to the door. "Hold your fucking reindeer. I'm coming…" Fuming, she undid the deadbolt and threw open the door, already launching into her angry tirade.

"Look I know you're probably just trying to spread the holiday cheer, but I don't do… Christmas…" she trailed off as the man standing before her slowly registered in her mind.

"Hey, Faye. What's up?"

Spike Spiegel gave her a genial smile, shoved his hands deep into his pockets, and strode past Faye – who was still standing openmouthed in the doorway. "Nice place you got here …" he cast his coat over an armchair and immediately focused on the couch she had recently vacated. Without another word, he threw himself unceremoniously across it, kicking off his boots and propping his feet up on the armrest.

Something in his familiar conquest of her couch snapped Faye back into the present. "But…what…how…" she stuttered, then gathered her wits and released the impending outburst. "WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN?!?!?!?!"

Spike glanced up from where he was furiously switching channels on the TV, momentarily distracted – though his finger kept clicking on the remote. "Around…" he refocused on the TV (which was now blaring 'Bruce Lee's Holiday Get-Down'), but sensing her impending glare, quickly added, "Well, up until recently, I've been dead."

That certainly stopped Faye in her tracks. "What?"

Without removing his gaze from the boob tube, he shrugged. "I'm just kidding. I've kinda been everywhere lately, but not really anywhere… you know what I mean?"

Exasperated, Faye stepped in front of the TV. "Well, what I want to know, is why have you showed up at _my_ apartment on Christmas Eve, four years after your supposed 'death'?"

Trying unsuccessfully to see around her, Spike answered, "It wasn't 'supposed'. I actually did die. But now I'm back."

In the face of such a statement, all Faye could think of to say was, "Obviously…"

With a sigh, Spike flopped back on the couch, resigned to having his view blocked by a righteously enraged woman. "As to the reason I'm here…Well, isn't Christmas supposed to be a time of family?"

Faye raised one eyebrow. "Hell if I know. But what does that have to do with anything? We're not related…"

"Well we're the closest thing to family either of us has now, aren't we?"

Reaching behind her, Faye flicked off the TV (ignoring Spike's indignant protests of how he was 'watching that'), and sank onto the floor, rescuing her drink from its precarious position a few inches from Spike's stocking feet, and tugged the blanket out from under him. "That still doesn't answer my question. Why _me_? Why not Jet or Ed?" 

Spike regarded her silently for a moment. She had changed in the four years since his death. She had grown older, grown colder, matured. Her violet hair was longer – just past her shoulders, and her make-up more subdued. The HideousYellowVinylThing had disappeared, replaced by thick-knit turtleneck and jeans, though both were still slightly too tight for 'moral society'. There were hints of crows' feet at the corner of her eyes, and the slightest whisper of purple rings under them. Curious, Spike asked, "It says 'Alice Gamble' on the nameplate of your door. Who's she?"

Remembering how easily Spike was distracted/avoided uncomfortable questions, Faye sighed. "She is me. Or I am her. Whatever. Anyways, my name isn't Faye Valentine anymore. I had it legally changed several years ago."

Spike frowned, but said nothing.

Faye took the moment of silence to survey Spike. He looked exactly the same as he had the last time she had seen him, four years ago on the news – minus the blood and gore, of course. He was still wearing that infernal blue suit, and his trench coat was draped over the armchair in the corner, dripping water onto her nice ivory carpet. His socks still had holes in the toes, and there were still cigarette burns on his jacket. His face was still unlined, for all that he was figuratively five years her elder, and his hair was still green from the roots to the tips. He hadn't aged a day in four years, but thinking about it only gave Faye a headache.

"Well, I suppose you'll answer when your ready, and I won't be able to move you until then…" she sighed, but Spike grinned. 

"I see you've finally caught on, Romani. So what can a weary cowpoke get to eat around here?"

Later, Spike was still parked on the couch, though he now had four Cup O' Noodles inside his belly. _It seems some things never change…like Faye's inability to do anything feminine except show off her body._ But he was considerably warmer, was seated on something comfortable, and there was a Bruce Lee marathon on TV. Everything else was irrelevant. But even this small pleasure was not to be.

"Don't tell me you came barging into my apartment without so much as a 'by your leave', demanded food, and now intend to spend the rest of the night parked in front of the TV watching some cheesy action movie that consists of nothing besides grunting and explosions?" Faye demanded, reappearing from the kitchen, her arms covered in soap suds, and actually wearing an apron. True, it wasn't exactly the frilly thing that Mrs. Brady or Jet wore, but it was still an apron, no matter how conservative. 

_The strange thing is,_ Spike thought, _it suits her…_ Banishing such traitorous thoughts from his head, he smirked up at Faye. "Fine. I won't. But that doesn't make it any less true…"

Throwing her hands up in frustration (and spattering the ceiling with soap suds), Faye strode back into the kitchen. She reappeared shortly minus the apron, and plus a box of matches. She crossed the room, flipping off the TV as she passed, and lit a fire in the fireplace. Removing his trench coat from where it had been rudely thrown over an armchair, she draped it over the grate in front of the fire to dry. 

Just as she finished, there was a shrill whistling from the kitchen. "Ah! My water!" Faye exclaimed, rushing back into the kitchen.

Curious, Spike followed, just in time to see her removing a whistling teakettle from the small stove.

"Oh, Spike, could you get me that big bowl there on the counter?" she asked distractedly, searching for a place to set the kettle down.

Surprised and slightly hesitant, Spike picked up said bowl and brought it over to where she had set the kettle down.

"Thanks. Now if you look in the pantry there, you'll find a box of 'Hot Butter Rum Mix' on the top shelf near the right. If you could bring that here…"

Following her instructions, Spike opened the pantry, revealing shelves of goods all alphabetized from left to right. Easily finding the box, he brought it over. "This?"

Faye looked up from pouring the hot water into the bowl. "Yes. Good. Now measure out two servings and dump them in here. I have to go make sure your coat hasn't burned the house down…" She bustled out of the kitchen, leaving Spike holding a box of 'Hot Butter Rum Mix' and a bowl of boiling water.

With a sigh, he read the directions and serving sizes off the side of the box, measured out two servings, and dumped them into the bowl. "Now what?" he called.

"Grab a spoon from the top drawer right in front of you, and stir it until its all blended." Faye called back.

As Spike was stirring, Faye reappeared. "Good. But try stirring like this." She walked over to where Spike was standing at the counter, and placed her hand over his. They both jumped slightly at the contact, then blushed hotly, but neither said a word about it. Faye changed the frequency of his stirring. "If you stir once around the edge of the bowl, then once in the center, and switch off, it keeps the flavoring from settling."

Spike nodded, but neither of them moved their hands away.

Shortly, they were both sitting on the couch, each nursing a mug of hot butter rum. Only the fire lit the room, and Faye watched it glint off Spike's eyes. "I heard from Jet awhile back. Apparently he's moved to Callisto, found himself a woman, and settled down. Last I heard, he was running 'The Black Dog Bar', and doing quite well. Ed wrote me a couple years ago, saying she was at a boarding school on earth. She's been in the news a couple times, apparently she hasn't stopped hacking…"

Spike laughed. "Well I'm glad everyone seems to be doing well."

Faye smiled and sipped her drink, still watching him over the rim of her mug. "Yeah. So. Are you ready now?"

"Ready? For what?"

She sighed, and glanced away. "To tell me. What happened with Julia and Vicious. Why you didn't contact anyone. Why you showed up on my doorstep on Christmas Eve, and not someone else's."

Spike winced slightly, and shoved the blankets off his legs. "I'm sorry Faye, I've stayed to long…" 

Faye stood too. "No! I mean, you don't _have_ to go. I'm not kicking you out. I shouldn't have asked those questions. They're too personal. You don't have to answer them. I can wait until you're ready."

Spike, who had been striding across the room to retrieve his jacket, paused.

Faye had her back to him, still holding her mug. "I guess it's just a little shocking. I mean, no one has heard from you in four years. We all thought you were _dead_. We saw some stuff on the news – the shell shocked building where the Syndicate use to be, a distant bit of you and Vicious fighting on the rooftop, you falling down the stairs. It was all on TV. Every station was playing it. It seemed like you were dead. They never did find your body – Syndicate goons hustled it out of there right after you fell, but Jet and I thought that if you were alive, you would have contacted us to let us know you were alive. But whatever. That's in the past now. I guess this is the contact, eh?" she paused to take a drink, but didn't turn. "When you first got here, all I wanted was an explanation. But now, I think that if you don't want to tell me right now, I can handle that. You can stay here as long as you like, even if you don't want to tell me anything, ever. It's the least I can do for an old friend. Just seeing you again is the best Christmas present I've had in awhile! It has been quite some time since I've had anyone here, but I think I have a fold up cot lying around here somewhere. I don't have people over here, anymore. Actually, I don't think I ever really did… Even before I met up with you and Jet, I was kind of a loner. But it would be nice to have someone around again. I guess…I guess, I'm a little lonely…" She trailed off, staring at the wall, holding her mug close to her as if it was a favorite toy.

After a moment of silence, she turned. "Spike?" But she couldn't see him anywhere. "Spike?"

Suddenly, the small Christmas tree in the corner flared to life, as all the strings of white lights received the electrical charge that flowed out the filaments and lit them up. The whole tree was wrapped in white lights, as the tiny flames reflected off the silver ornaments and tinsel. The glass angel on the top shone like a miniature sun, blazing forth in the darkened room. 

Spike stepped out from behind the tree, letting the cord drop to the ground. A sad smile played across his features, and the shadows cast by the tree flickered along his face. They stared at each other in silence for a moment, and then wordlessly, Spike enfolded Faye in his arms. "I'm a little lonely too…" he whispered into her ear.

Startled, she looked up, not sure if she had heard him right, and their eyes locked. Hesitantly, they both leaned forward a little, neither looking away.

But then there was a crash, as Faye's mug slipped from her hand and shattered on the floor. Jerking out of the semi-trance, Faye pulled out of Spike's embrace, cheeks flaming. She dropped to her knees, and began to scoop up the ceramic fragments. "I'm sorry, Christmas just makes me really emotional. I'll look for that spare cot… I think it's in…the closet…" she trailed off as Spike gently hooked his fingers under her chin and lightly tipped her head up. "I…really… should go…get…that…" she whispered, as he pulled her easily to her feet. 

His two-toned eyes found hers again, but she pushed back. "I'm…I'm sorry. You…Julia…me… it's all too complicated. I don't want to go there, until you're ready to tell me what really happened. I don't want to regret this later…" she stepped backwards, almost in tears but obstinately holding on to her composure.

But Spike was not deterred at all. A small smile played across his mouth, and he stepped forward again. Without glancing away from her eyes, he reached into his jacket pocket, and pulled out a small green plant tied with a red bow. His smile turned into an easy grin, as he held the plant over their heads. 

Faye looked up, and actually smirked. "Mistletoe. I should have known…"

Spike cocked an eyebrow. "Well?"

Faye laughed, but willingly stepped into his embrace, and brought her lips to his. One of his arms slid around her waist, and he deepened the kiss a little. She reached up and wrapped her arms around his neck and he slowly dipped her backwards.

Breathing in the familiar scent of him again, a single crystalline tear slid down her cheek.

White sunlight awoke Faye the next morning, dancing across her eyelids. She was strangely warm in her bed, all wrapped up tight in her blankets. "Mmmmm…" she rolled over. Suddenly a small thought finally penetrated her sleepy brain. "It's Christmas today…Spike! It's Christmas!" she sat up straight in bed.

But the covers next to her were thrown back, and the bed was empty, save for her. "Spike…" she murmured, sliding her hand over the empty sheets. They were still warm.

Throwing back the blankets, she slipped her feet into fuzzy slippers and threw her silk dressing gown on, hurriedly belting it around her waist. She half ran out of her bedroom, but the apartment was empty. A cold draft from the front door drew her attention. 

The door was standing open, revealing a world of glistening white. A bit of snow had blown inside from the open door, but Faye ignored it and stepped outside.

The street was full of people bustling back and forth in the snow, huddled in scarves and bulky coats. But none of them sported a head of unruly green hair, or a large ratty trench coat. Faye stood on her doorstep in nothing but a silk dressing gown and slippers, and simply watched them in silence for a moment.

Returning inside, she closed the door tightly, and shuffled back towards her room. But she felt drawn to the Christmas tree, and so changed her course, angling for the small fir. As she fondly brushed her fingers over the green boughs, she noticed a small box wrapped in plain brown paper. Curious, she pulled off the paper and opened the box. Inside was a small green plant tied with a red bow. "Mistletoe…" she murmured. "I should have known."

A slip of paper dropped from the box, fluttering softly to the ground. Faye stooped to pick it up. Familiar handwriting was scrawled across it, the letters jumbled and tumbling together, but Faye recognized it just the same.

_Merry Christmas, Faye._

_~S_

A/N: Well? Did you like it? I didn't really have a chance to go over it since I was in such a rush to get it out this morning. In case you were confused, 'Alice' is Faye. I refer to her as 'Alice' in the first part of the fic because she hasn't reverted back to her old Fayeness yet. I switch as soon as Spike arrives because that's where she slips back into her old 'HideousYellowVinylThing' metaphorically speaking. Now I hope you liked it! REVIEW PLEEZ!!!!!! 


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